


ash in the wind

by vellichorvirgo



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, Past Character Death, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-14
Updated: 2019-06-14
Packaged: 2020-05-07 14:36:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19211440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vellichorvirgo/pseuds/vellichorvirgo
Summary: It always started the same: darkness, broken only by the soft sough of waves lapping at a shore.——This is the problem with a recurring nightmare: it tricks you into believing it every single time.





	ash in the wind

**Author's Note:**

> [ trigger warning: blood ] 
> 
> i woke up at 3 am from a horrible nightmare and was too afraid to go back to sleep, so i wrote this instead. sorry, asra.

It always started the same: darkness, broken only by the soft sough of waves lapping at a shore. 

Then the darkness lifted, like a black veil being pulled away from Asra’s eyes, revealing an all-too familiar scene: the docks. 

It was always night. The sky overhead was inky-blue and endless, reflected in the rippling water below. Although it was a clear night, not a single star glittered. The only light was a weak one, filtering down from a sliver of moon low on the horizon. 

Once Asra’s eyes adjusted, he noticed the lone figure standing at the end of the pier. Their back was to him as they stared out over the water, the moonlight too dim to make out any features, but somehow his heart still clenched in a flash of recognition. 

His feet began moving of their own accord, making their way across the worn wood towards the figure. If they heard him coming they made no indication of it, remaining still and silent, silhouetted against the sea and sky. 

When he was only a handful of steps away from them, recognition struck him again—this time as blindingly-bright as a fork of lightning. 

“Leda?”

He said it out loud; he was sure of it. And yet, judging by the complete lack of reaction from the person in front of him, it was as if he wasn’t there at all. 

“Leda,” he repeated, louder. 

Nothing. 

“ _ Leda! _ ” 

Finally, she heard him. She turned towards him, the scant moonlight catching in her deep teal eyes, in the edges of her wild dark hair. The gold ring in her septum glinted in the darkness like a beacon.

The pure  _ pain _ in her face froze Asra’s breath in his lungs. 

“Asra,” she said, voice wavering. 

Unease flared in the pit of his stomach, sharp and sour. Like a warning.

Blood began dripping from Leda’s nose; first one nostril, then the other, trickling down over her septum ring, the bow of her lips. 

Then it began welling in her eyes, dying the whites a bitter, painful red. The scarlet drops rolled down her cheeks like tears. 

Asra was frozen, rooted to the spot with terror. Unable to do anything but watch. 

Watch, as Leda’s lips parted in a whisper, forming the syllables of his name once more before blood spilled from her mouth. 

Pulse hammering painfully in his chest, Asra wrenched free of the horror that trapped him where he stood. He lunged towards Leda, his hands reaching out desperately for her. 

His fingers closed around her wrist. For one suspended moment, his eyes met hers. 

Then the air filled with the scent of smoke and fire, and Leda’s body crumbled to ashes in his hands. 

 

Asra jolted upright in bed with a cry, chest heaving frantically for breath. 

_ No no no no—Leda— _ Leda—

“Asra? Asra, what’s wrong?” 

Gentle hands cupped either side of his face. Leda’s face swam before his own, eyes wide with worry. 

“Leda,” he breathed shakily, heady relief bleeding through him. 

_ Just the nightmare again. Just a nightmare.  _

Before him, Leda’s eyes were knowing. “Bad dream?” she asked quietly, thumb stroking along his cheekbone. 

She knew better than anyone the things he dreamed of, even though he’d never told her.

Asra shut his eyes and nodded, trying and failing to banish that image of her—face agonized, blood pouring from her orifices. Trying and failing to banish the feeling—the memory—of ash slipping through his fingers, whisked away on a phantom wind. 

Leda said nothing, but her hand dropped down to his, coaxing it upwards until it rested flat against her chest. 

Her heartbeat thumped steadily against Asra’s palm, in time with his own as it slowly calmed and slowed. 

_ Alive. She was alive, and she was here, with him.  _

He exhaled a breath and opened his eyes, drinking in the sight of her. The whisper of a smile at her mouth was like daybreak—the first light breaking through darkness. 

She pulled his hand up from her heart to her mouth, pressing kisses against his fingertips that had his pulse fluttering. “Go back to sleep, love. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Oh, what a precious gift those words were. 


End file.
